


Coat of Arms

by GenericUsername01



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Selkies, Surprise Marriage, its just... surprise, its like the beginning of the fifteenth century somewhere vaguely english-ish, king pike, knight jim, like its not arranged or accidental or fake or anything, long-haired spock, okay to be specific about setting, set in medieval europe, spock is a strange and vaguely wizard-like figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenericUsername01/pseuds/GenericUsername01
Summary: Spock dropped his coat.





	Coat of Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I WAS going to update Crowned but they took the princess diaries 2 off of netflix and now I don't know what to do with it
> 
> So I went searching for prompts and wrote this short little thing instead
> 
> I call Jim 'James' in this fic and you all just will have to deal with it. I realize it's weird. But the setting demands it.
> 
> There are five types of medieval doctors. The 'physician' is the highest and the only type that goes to college, they're typically employed only by extremely wealthy people. 'Wise woman' was the lowest and basically the local herbalist and what we would today think of as a general practitioner-- they treated the poor and did everything short of surgery.
> 
> Last names will not be a thing until about a century after this fic takes place, so everyone goes by their first name

The dining hall of the castle was full to bursting. Boisterous knights-- some still in their armor-- were shouting and laughing and tearing into the food. King Christopher's household and the local courtiers were a bit more subdued in their merriment, but no less happy for it. Servants slipped in and out of the crowd almost unnoticed, replacing dishes and refilling goblets.

James leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his wine. Physician Leonard approached and slapped him on the shoulder. James turned, grinned, and rose from the table to embrace his friend.

"James! My good man, they say you've won back all the king's lands!"

"As far as the former border and beyond. Now King Christopher's reach extends to le Fleuve de la Lune," he said. "But it was hardly I alone."

"You are the king's most trusted knight. You led the advancing forces, James, take the credit."

"No knight is higher than any other, Bones. Christopher is both my king and my liege lord, and I will serve him as I have sworn to."

Bones shook his head. "Knights. From any other man, those would be airy words, but you, you truly are hopeless."

"Aww, and you prefer me to any other knight, don't lie."

He scoffed. "All the other knights behave like Sir Gary. They walk around with heads massive on their shoulders, thinking themselves greater than God himself, but then you speak to them, and see that their heads are full of nothing but air. They are dumb, swaggering brutes, held back only by--"

"Thanks, Bones, I believe that's quite enough."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, save yourself, child. You, of course, are the only good one in a bad lot."

"Oh, I don't know, I think Sir Hikaru has promise." He grinned over the rim of his goblet. "Oh! And in other news, the local wise woman Christine has been telling the townsfolk that your theory of treating the humor of fire is so wrong as to be heretical and an insult to the Lord Jesus's creative powers. She seeks public debate with you, and she approaches right now, about fifteen feet behind."

 _"What?!"_  Bones turned around in panic, eyes shifting until they lighted on a tall figure moving determinedly towards him. He swore.

"Oh, surely you aren't afraid, are you, good doctor? Your training is obviously the sup--"

Leonard was already gone, ducking and weaving through the crowd so as to disappear. Christine approached, girded in simple peasants' garb: a plain gray dress and wimple to cover the hair, and a shawl of undyed wool that fell all the way to her knees.

She tilted her chin up, steel eyes meeting James'. "Have you seen Physician Leonard?"

He took another sip of his wine and pointed in the general direction his friend had left. Christine gave a curt nod of thanks, and headed off.

The castle had been opened to the townsfolk in the spirit of celebration, inviting in both nobles and peasants alike. Admittedly, there wasn't much actual mixing going on between the two classes, but most in attendance seemed to be enjoying themselves. Good food and spirits and a warm building would do that.

Save one lone figure, separate from the rest. He wore his hair loose and long, an unusual bit of silky black. His clothes were flowing, elegant, in the rich colors of a noble-- yet James was aware of all the nobles in King Christopher's castle, and he most certainly was not one. As was the fashion of late, he wore an overcoat of fur draped down his back, sleeveless and held on at the front by only the barest scraps of fabric.

His eyes were piercing without even looking at James. His features could have been carved Italian marble.

He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature James had ever lighted eyes on.

He set his goblet back down on the banquet table and began making his way over. Just as he did, the nobleman (for surely he must be a nobleman?) began to move from his spot against the wall, and as he did, his overcoat slipped from his shoulders. James quickened his pace, swooping down to retrieve it.

"Excuse me, sir!" he called. "You dropped your coat."

The man froze, then slowly turned to face him. His eyes were wide, his entire countenance ashen with fear. James's heart constricted.

He continued forward, holding out the garment. "Here."

The man's brow furrowed. "You are returning it to me?"

James frowned. "Of course."

The man reached out and took his own coat hesitantly. "I... thank you." His face was slowly becoming less puzzled and more awestruck, a change James was confused by but also supported strongly, beautiful as it was.

He smiled, the slow, heated smirk he used when flirting. "You have nothing to thank me for," he said. "May I have your name? I am Sir James, of King Christopher's knights."

"I am Spock." He nodded.

"Spock? I have never heard its like before. Is it Christian?"

"Christian?" Spock tilted his head.

James's eyes widened just slightly, and he burst into a delighted laugh. "You really are something. Forgive me if this seems prying, but please, where are you from?"

"My people are of the sea," Spock said. "We have no permanent home. We go where the current takes us."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I am a selkie."

James hissed in sharply, head whipping around to check for curious eavesdroppers. He grabbed onto Spock and led him further away from the crowd, back to where he was earlier. His voice pitched into a low, furious whisper.

"Are you mad?! What if some unscrupulous person had heard you? And I suppose this fur is your seal skin, isn't it? Do you know how easily that could have been stolen?"

Spock looked at him stolidly. "My fur can only be stolen once, Sir James. I am bound to its keeper for life."

Rage boiled up in him. "If there's some scoundrel keeping you captive here, Spock, then I demand to know who it is."

"Sir James,  _you_ are the only human who has held my fur, and I anticipate that you are the only human who ever will."

He paled. "What?"

"You found my fur and took possession of it."

"But I gave it back."

"Yes, and I am most grateful."

"Spock, I am confused. What are you saying?"

"You have given me my fur and my freedom. I can come and go as I please. But nevertheless, having taken possession of it in the first place, you are now owner of my hand and soul."

"But I did not know."

"It matters not."

"I never meant to trap you."

"Lucky, then, that I do not feel trapped," he said. "Sir James, you wear your honor as clearly as you would wear your armor. I can feel your soul within mine, and it is good. Have no worries about my entrapment, for if I am a captive, then I am a most willing one."

James took Spock's hands in his own, and there, the man was right, he could sense it now, now that he was looking. There was an undeniable sense of  _Spock_ somewhere in his consciousness. A steady, quiet flow of his emotions and surface thoughts, beautiful and addicting. James didn't know if he could rid himself of it even if there was a way.

Somewhere in the instinctive part of his brain, he suddenly knew that Spock was gentle, good and right-minded, intelligent to a shocking degree. That he would spark a flame of laughter and adventure and sheer joy into his life. That James would spend every last one of his days loving him as much as he was capable.

He looked into Spock's eyes and saw-- and felt-- it all reflected right back.


End file.
